


108

by ten_and_a_rose



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Episode Fix-It: s04e13 Journey's End, F/M, Fix-It, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 07:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5039341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ten_and_a_rose/pseuds/ten_and_a_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose's search for the Doctor has left its mark on her.  Journey's End fix-it implied: assumes no trigger happy Dalek and no meta-crisis.</p>
<p>Written for tumblr's <a href="http://timepetalsprompts.tumblr.com">timepetalsprompts</a> weekly prompt: "Tell me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	108

“Tell me?”

The two word incantation is familiar now, the rite always the same.  He chooses, plucking at her memory with a single touch and a gentle question.  It’s never a demand, not an obligation or even a prescription.  It’s an offering.  He loves her, after all.

Some days are difficult.  Sometimes her pain adds to his own, and she never wants that.

The stars were going out, and all she wanted was to find her way home.

He makes his choice, cool fingertips brushing her ribs just there, and today it hurts, it  _hurts_.  He’s finally chosen  _that one._   It’s not the largest, nor is it the ugliest.  Most of those are already gone.

It’s just the most unkind.

“Don’t suppose we can skip that this time,” she murmurs, trying for lightness but falling so far short her voice is close to mournful.

He understands, of course.  Emotions flow in fluid honesty between them now, no more empty spaces or words left unsaid. They share a home, a bed, a bond, a life together inside a beautiful blue box that drifts through Time and space.

He doesn’t say anything, just pillows his head against her bare stomach and reaches up to run the backs of his fingers up her neck, her jaw, her cheek.  As he reaches her forehead she closes her eyes and hums softly.  The pad of his thumb dips between her eyebrows to smooth away the vertical crinkle she didn’t realise was still there.

Finally he sits up and the bed dips as he reaches over for his sonic and the dermal regenerator on the nightstand.  He smiles at her and she returns it and it’s so tender it aches.

It’s a very good ache.

“Right, then,” he says.  “Number 108.”

He takes up the instruments and begins carefully working her flesh, breaking down the remnants of imperfect human healing and rebuilding skin and muscle anew.

The first night they were together she was genuinely afraid of letting him see the secrets hiding beneath trousers and boots and a blue jacket – how badly the search had marked her.

He only loved her more even as his hearts broke.  He counted and catalogued them all, memorizing her body’s slopes and curves and scars and seeing in everything only how beautiful she was.

“Not very many left, Rose,” he remarks carefully.  “Soon they’ll all be gone.”

They both know – this isn’t about physical imperfections.  He’s soothing, healing her.  Healing her just as she’d healed him.

She takes a few deep breaths and begins to talk about that jump.

She isn’t naïve anymore, and he never was.  They see themselves clearly.  They’re together, the Doctor and Rose, in the Tardis.  And however foolhardy, they both choose to believe in  _forever_.


End file.
